


Family Matters

by justanothersong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, I have no idea, M/M, One Shot, domestic AU, don't even ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothersong/pseuds/justanothersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel’s face had gone blank. He had thought, when the time came, that he could handle it. That he would know in his heart of hearts that whoever rattled off the cruel phrase would not truly have meant it, and that he could shield himself from any hurt it might cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Matters

It would have happened eventually, Castiel was sure of that. Part of him had always expected it, tried to prepare for it, make it so when it did come up, it wouldn’t be as hurtful. In the end he found there was no way to prepare for it, that the words would cut through him like a knife no matter how he had tried to cushion the blow.

He knew it would hurt.

He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

 

Emma was only twelve, and he and Dean had given her a lot of leeway. She was a smart and capable girl, and they were proud of the fact that they didn’t have to worry about her very often. She knew what to do in emergencies. She had a cellular phone on her at all times and stayed within a reasonable amount of use on it. She got good grades without forsaking a social life; she had decent friends, the sort of kids not likely to get in much trouble, and the only time she’d gotten detention was when she was sticking up for a friend who was being bullied.

No, Castiel never thought it would come from Emma.

Ben was a different story; he was seventeen and had grown surly, spending much of his time with them holed up in his room with his guitar. He only stayed with Dean and Castiel part time, moving back and forth between their home and his mother’s, thankfully near enough that it didn’t affect his school work. He was graduating that year and would be heading off to college, and he seemed to have already mentally checked out of high school.

Castiel thought Ben would resent him; there seemed to have been some lingering hope for the boy that Dean, his father, would reunite with his mother. Dean’s misspent youth had brought him into Lisa Braeden’s life; their reckless behavior had brought the boy into the world, and Dean had never regretted it. Neither had Castiel, meeting Dean some years later, long after the spark between him and Ben’s mother had died.

Emma had been an infant then. Dean had only been dealing with the life of a single father for a few weeks, a one night stand reappearing to dump the infant into his arms and run for the hills. Castiel had been a part of her life almost as long as Dean, so it hurt even more for the words to tumble from her lips, voice still carrying the dulcet note of childhood even as she stood on the precipice of being a teenager.

“You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my father!”

 

Worse still, it had been an entirely stupid argument. Emma had been whining for several days about wanting to spend the weekend with a new friend’s family at their cabin upstate. Krissy was perfectly nice, but Dean and Castiel hadn’t been able to find time to meet her father, and were both uncomfortable letting their little girl tromp off into the woods with someone they didn’t even know.

There would be more long weekends, they had counseled.

Next time, she could go, just not this weekend.

Emma had, of course, promptly lost her mind, as pre-teen girls were wont to do. She cried and stomped around for days, glaring at them over her morning Cheerios and answering their questions with ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘fine’.

When she had flounced in the door that Friday afternoon, bouncing on her heels and smiling, Castiel had been glad to see her in such good spirits. When she announced that Krissy’s dad would be getting off work early that day and could stop by if Castiel wanted to meet him, he had frowned. Dean wouldn’t be home from his late shift at hospital until well after midnight.

They had a family policy, and Emma knew it: both Dean and Castiel had to meet her friend’s parents together before they agreed to anything. Castiel had been the only one to meet Emma’s younger friend Hael’s mother, one day at a supermarket the previous summer, and he had readily agreed to joining them for a barbeque over the Labor Day weekend. When Emma had arrived with both of her fathers in tow, they had learned rather rudely that Hael’s family was in a fundamentalist church.

It had been embarrassing, but worst of all, it had been upsetting for Emma, and they wouldn’t put her through that sort of thing again.

When Castiel reminded Emma of their family rule, the rough streak of temper she had inherited from her father had surfaced, and she spat out her hurtful words.

 

Castiel’s face had gone blank. He had thought, when the time came, that he could handle it. That he would know in his heart of hearts that whoever rattled off the cruel phrase would not truly have meant it, and that he could shield himself from any hurt it might cause.

He thought it wouldn’t cut him like this.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Emma,” he replied evenly, expressionless in voice and demeanor. “But it doesn’t change anything. You cannot go this weekend. Please go start on your homework.”

He felt as though he were in a bad play then, heading heavy-footed up the stairs to his office. He still had some work to do; he taught at the nearby university and had some posting to do for the class discussion boards, but even as he walked towards his computer, he didn’t know how he’d maintain enough composure to write.

He felt cold, his hands like ice, and there was a deep ache in his chest that seemed to grow exponentially by the second. 

Emma had never been anything but his daughter to him, from the moment Dean asked him to be a part of their lives forever. He changed her diapers, sat up with her when she was colicky, put bandages and kisses on all of her boo-boos, and loved every moment of it.

Ben hadn’t been his, not really, but the boy still began calling him ‘Pops’ not long after Dean and Castiel had married; he treated Castiel as an extension of Dean, another voice of reason and authority in his life, and Castiel treated him like a son. Perhaps it would have hurt less, if it had been Ben, because even then, he knew there had been much of the boy’s life spent without Castiel, and he would have understood.

But Emma, well… Castiel had never been anything but her father. And it hurt.

He cleared his throat and sat down, blinking back unshed tears and trying to focus on the work he had to do. There was no time for this silliness, he kept trying to tell himself. There was no reason to be quite so upset; she couldn’t have meant it, not really, she was just angry and lashing out.

He wished he could believe all the things he kept telling himself.

 

Castiel barely registered the pounding of feet on the stairs or running down the hall, focusing so hard on the task at hand in an attempt to blot out what he was feeling. When the office door flew open, Castiel barely had time to turn and look before Emma was throwing her arms around him, blonde hair fanning out behind her with the momentum of it.

“I’m sorry!” she said, voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry Papa, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t!” She was sobbing so hard that her thin shoulders were shaking and Castiel couldn’t help the tears falling from his own eyes as he wrapped her up in his arms.

“I know, baby, I know,” he responded.


End file.
